I think it’s because it’s digital, but my new TV (aka the thing that makes even soap operas look appealing because it has a pretty picture. Thank god I have a job) has a delay of a few seconds compared to the old TV.

Right now I’m in the dining room, which is in between the living room (land of the pretty pictures) and the kitchen (the room I want a permanent attendant for).

I don’t want to say the kitchen TV is old, but it is a Sony Watchman (made for about 2 years), which is a mini-black and white TV with a cassette player and am/fm radio.  We are all about cutting edge here.

Anyway, there is a delay of a couple of seconds on the pretty TV. Now you might be thinking: maybe it’s that the kitchen TV is ahead and not the living room, but this idiosyncrasy didn’t manifest until the Pretty Picture TV came along. Before, the old TVs both yelled at you simultaneously.

So I’m hearing 60 Minutes on both devices but the living room one repeats the kitchen one a couple of seconds later, just enough time to throw me off-kilter (don’t go there). It’s like a recurrent echo that only repeats once. Or someone repeating himself.

You wouldn’t think that hearing the same things a couple of seconds apart would be such a big deal, but I think I have indavertently discovered a new medical condition: auditory vertigo.


I found the hair product! (Click here for background.)

It was in the basket in the lower right corner underneath the wire shelf. Use your imagination and you can almost see it in the photo.


It’s kind of ironic it’d be there, since that’s where I normally keep light bulbs, and without the hair product it looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket.

I still don’t understand how it got there.

The following should be read aloud in your best toothless old fart reliving days of yore voice.

Now back when I was a youngen this woulda been the size of a room and only Bill Gates coulda afforded it:


(and believe me when I say there are many things I could complain about right now) the thing that’s sticking in my craw (sp?) is that I can’t find my new bottle of Aveda Be Curly Curl Control.

hrIf you’ve seen my hair without any product on it you’d run out yourself and buy me a bottle immediately. This hair has a mind of its own and I’ve learned to surrender by just buying expensive products,,,supporting my local small business getting the damn stuff ’cause it works.

Under the best of circumstances I have to pry my wallet open for these products and under-employment not being the best of circumstances, I was really glad to get a gift card at Xmas so I didn’t have to spend ~$20 on it (even though it lasts a long time, and all that horsesh*t they tell you when you’re bi*ching about the price at the register).

But now it’s gone and I am pretty peeved. It’s been sitting in my bathroom closet, which really looks like this most of the time, except there’s usually more dirty laundry and  I’ve finally installed the 2 hooks on the door after having them for 1+ year.

click the photo to help me find it


<Side note: It’s amazing what the procrastination of one task – writing meaningful cover letter #4445 – can make you finally UN-procrastinate – here, putting the hooks on the door. I’ve also procrastinated by wisely used my under-employment time to paint a chest of drawers, scan a ton of paper and promptly shred it (instead of letting it pile up and have the dog unpile it while playing with her toy as per usual), stripped 2 windows and primed them, infilled old holes and primed them, cleaned basement.

And let’s not even talk about how many times a day I check for my new TV’s price to magically decrease, compare costs of getting rid of landline, to change ISPs, to change cell phone plan to compensate for no landline, etc. My ability to procrastinate is at an all-time high. end of long side note>

Anyway, back to the whining at hand: I cannot find that damn bottle to save my soul. It used to be on the shelf where the ??? in the photo are. After ripping apart the closet twice, the only thing I can think of is that it bounced into the trash can somehow.

Sounds impossible doesn’t it? Nope. It’s not impossible. Stuff on the wire racks bounces around all the time. Add the Q-Tips box as a launch pad, and you can see the physics of it. I’ve witnessed it myself so I know it can happen.

So I’ve apparently thrown it away. Only this time I didn’t see it happen. Why can’t the stupid $3 laundry cleaner stick have bounced in instead? God knows I’ve seen that happen enough before. “Enough” is apparently the operative word here.

It just frosts my a** no end to go get another bottle, which I’ll procrastinate until the last minute too, of course, hoping the original will magically jump out of the landfill.

Unless you see it in the photo…let me know if you do, okay? Thanks.

And thanks for “listening” while I vented about yet another comparatively – unimportant – event – that’s – risen – to – crisis – level – in – my – mind.

Oh god it’s electronics season. Of course it’s always electronics season for some of us, but now it’s electronics season for everyone.  I’m in physical pain.

Any gadget geek knows you don’t buy electronics gadgets for others at Christmas time; you buy them for yourself as a “treat.”

Since I will be under-employed as of either Monday or the 23rd (you’d think I should know wouldn’t you?!) I can merely lust this year. It’s a test of strength too, let me tell you.

I was lusting for the Verizon Blackberry Storm because I want the touchscreen, the camera for its focal mechanism (auto focus not fixed focus), its bigger display, the GPS on demand, and (of course) for the phone. I didn’t like the mandatory data plan though. I really wouldn’t use it.

Now I hear that the phone sucks under-performs anyway so I’m glad I didn’t run out and get it, but there’s still the (Samsung?) Dare taunting me from Craigslist.

Then there’s the mp3 player. I just can’t make myself become a Pod-person, no matter how many raves it gets. It’s just so proprietary and expensive and blah blah blah. The only plusses it has are that it can play songs gap-lessly (like 2 concert songs without a pause in between).

And don’t get me going on the DTV – DVR saga. I was finally ready to sell myself to the devil (again) and buy a new tv (god it’s a freakin’ great picture) so I kept looking online, learning, comparing features, etc.

Or I did before the reality of  “no job in a sucky economy” really hit. Now I don’t even bother looking. It hurts, I tell you; it just physically hurts.

All those RSS gadget feeds unread, all that money unspent, all the efficiency un-gained, all the convenience un-had. Like I said, it physically hurts.

Call me shallow, materialistic and not satisfied with what I have, but it’s in my genes I tell you. I come by it rightly – just ask anyone on my father’s side of the family. They’re almost all afflicted this way too.

Ah well. What’re you gonna do? Everyone knows you can change your jeans but you can’t change your genes.

Yeah, it’s true: I’m bi.

Bi-focular, that is. (Yep, made up another word.)

After 6 years I could no longer avoid them, the b-fs that is. Before, I could just peek over or under my frames and see, but lately I’ve had to take off my glasses AND get close to see some things.

Like books. Reee reee reee — that’s when the alarm bells went off. That and too many headaches.

It was like 3rd grade all over again, only now I can’t see up close and I’m 45, not 10.

Other than that though, it’s just like 3rd grade:

  • Even when wearing them, I can’t see yet. Everything around the edges is blurry and fish-eyed.
  • I loved riding the RoundUp in 3rd grade. I feel like I’m riding the RoundUp now too. Unlike 3rd grade though, I now have recurring vertigo, so riding the RoundUp is not so appealing.
  • Headaches indicate you need glasses, yet ironically, when you get the new glasses you may also get headaches until you’re “used” to them. Happened in 3rd grade when I got my 1st pair; happened now that I’ve gotten my first progressive lenses. Please note: I will no longer refer to them as “bi-focals” because that sounds — way older than 3rd grade.

The one big difference between now and 3rd grade though: When I was in 3rd grade, I wanted whatever my aunt, who is 4 years older than me, had.

So in 3rd grade, I got granny glasses, which were all the rage then (merely coincidental to the fact that my idol wore them).

Now, even though I’m told these “all the rage” (style-wise) (same with the last 2 pairs), I always (at first anyway) hate the frames I “decided” on, and I need a lot of reassurance and validation from others.

To give you an idea of how bad it is, I had to have one trip with my sister (4 if you count all the places we went) and one with my friend, and I got the optician’s advice and the doctor’s advice, and took pix with my phone’s camera (which, BTW, I’m told is NOT unusual for glasses-triers-onners).

Then (irony or subconscious choice? You be the judge) I think I ended up getting the one pair I vetoed when I looked through my phone pix. I can’t bear to rehash it all by looking through the pix because really, what would be the point? It’s too late now.

You can imagine how much the place I ended up buying them from was sooooooooooo glad to see me go. It’s a good thing I can make people laugh while they hate me.

But here’s the thing: I feel vulnerable when I get new glasses. I want to project a certain image: professional, yet kind of funky, chic, au courant AND halfway decent-looking. If you make a poor attempt for the same in undergarments, you can at least hide them. You can’t hide your glasses though.

Plus, unlike underwear, they’re so effing expensive that you can’t just go get another pair if you don’t like what you end up with. Hell, I’d easily have 50-60 pairs if that were the case.

So I’m just wearing them at home for now, until I get my non-roundup legs and no more headaches. Hopefully by then I’ll like them more too.

Having proven long ago that I have no pride (or is it no shame?), I am revealing today 2 of my deepest shames, 2 items of clothing I cannot bear to get rid of.

I’ve already purged the jeans – that – were – faded -just – right* – and – had – holes – in – the – right – places – but – that – I – couldn’t -fit – an – arm – into – anymore.

I’ve purged the beloved overcoat with the zip-out liner but that had shoulder pads.

Dead tennis shoes I could garden in? Gone.

But these…these I can’t let go of and I don’t know why. I don’t think I’m sentimental over them…one I got at a thrift store in college, and the shirt was from an old boyfriend.

They were both used and old when I got them.

They’re certainly not “in style” (if they ever were).

I would never wear them in public unless I were – well, unless I had a fire in the middle of the night I guess.

They have holes, tears, paint stains, no elastic where they should and have faded immeasurably.

They are literally threadbare. And yet…

They are sooooo soft. I wear them for bed and feel like I’m all snuggly, even though they provide no insulation whatsoever. It’s a comfort thing, I guess.

I just can’t seem to get rid of them. I feel like Linus with his blanket…

The goods (the bads?)

Jersey from a b.f.; at least 20 years old


That’s my hand. And you can pretty much see thru it when there IS no light behind it…


Sweatshirt from a thrift store between 21 and 24 years ago…


It’s too thin for sweat to be absorbed into it…

*Yes, kids, when I was a youngen we used to actually buy new, blue blue jeans and allow them to fade naturally by washing them a lot.

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